


Chocolatey Goodness 06: Scoobysnacks

by Mad Poetess (mpoetess)



Series: Chocolatey Goodness [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Food Sex, Humor, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-09-25
Updated: 2000-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpoetess/pseuds/Mad%20Poetess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is baking the guy-way, unintentional voyeurism, and margarine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolatey Goodness 06: Scoobysnacks

Warm night in the parking lot of the empty Sunnydale Drive-In Theatre:

"You, Spike, are one sick, twisted fuck," Xander Harris pronounced, gazing down at the gravel that was about three feet away from his face, and hoping he didn't come into intimate contact with it in the next few moments.

"Yeah, so, you have a problem with this?" Spike replied, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

"Well, not on principle, since you're also a pretty good sick twisted fuck, but it's been an hour, and we haven't seen a single demon, ghouly, ghostie, or thing that goes bump in the night. Except my face into your ass, and I'm suddenly thinking that was the entire point of this expedition, and I should just shut up now..." Xander trailed off.

Spike gave a pained, smoky sigh. "Are you having another 'Hate myself 'cos I'm fucking Spike and I'm pretty sure this makes me not only gay, but also extremely stupid...' moment? "

Xander giggled, and watched the gravel spin. "No, I'm having a 'Blood pooling in my head, if you don't put me down I'm gonna yak all over your boots' moment." Tonight on Channel 8 News: Neutered Vampire Hires Hit-Man To Kill Human Lover For Regurgitating Vast Amounts Of Count Chocula Onto His Best (only) Pair Of Doc Martens...

Spike grudgingly threw down his cigarette and hauled Xander back up over his leatherclad shoulder, until they were face to face, Xander swaying slightly on the uneven ground. The vampire steadied him with a firm hand. "Your idea, mate."

"No, my idea was that this time I actually do something, instead of just hiding behind a tree and watching you fight, like last night. As ideas go, not one of my most Xanderiffic, but what can I say. Senile dementia. The something I had in mind involved me coaxing soldier-Xander out of hiding, and looking all macho, though, not being dragged around the bad side of town as bait."

"There's a good side of town?" Spike asked in apparent surprise. "Anyway, not my fault you're such a nummy treat that all the demons want to come sniffing after you. Might as well use it to my advantage, though." He made as if to throw Xander back over his shoulder, and the human ducked. Stumbled slightly.

"Okay, dizziness, thy name is Xander. Maybe you could come up with a better solution than using me as Sack-of-Potatoes-Man?"

Spike shrugged. "We could always go back and clean up the kitchen."

Shudder. No thanks. "Um...no...just let me get my head cleared before you try that again."

The blonde grabbed him by the back of his neck, and hauled him close for a long, rough, menthol-flavored kiss.

"You're not helping here," Xander complained happily when he was finally released.

*****

The First Attempt:

Spike quietly began to disentangle himself from a still-sleeping Xander. The boy grumbled disjointedly. "Don't...hey, soft...come back."

Spike had to smile. He'd missed having somebody with a brain in his bed, even a demented, sleep-addled brain. Even if it wasn't actually his bed. Dru used to say the most entertaining things when she was half-awake...

He shook Xander's shoulder gently. "Xander...I'm getting up for a drink. You want anything?"

The body in his arms stirred. Opened liquid black eyes that held not one shred of real sleep in them. Grinned wickedly. Little faker. Big faker, actually, but he couldn't help thinking of Xander as smaller than himself, even though the human had a few inches on him in height, and a bit more than a stone in weight. Doesn't matter. He's a kid. A man, at times, but still a kid.

"Million bucks, decent car that I actually own, somebody to tell me why there's no word that rhymes with orange, the ability to mainline Ho-Ho's. Other than that, I'm good," Xander replied thoughtfully. Spike nodded. Slowly withdrew his arms from around the warm body, and rose from the bed. Padded naked over to the kitchen. Careless. Never had been ashamed of his own body. And he was never cold in the morning if he didn't wake up alone. Have a ball with that one, Dr. Freud. Let's talk about my abandonment issues over a nice cup of pig's blood. He pulled a packet of cold blood from the fridge, tossed it in the microwave, set it for fifty-five seconds, and sat down at the table.

"Time is it?" Xander asked, yawning. Spike glanced at his watch.

"Either eight-eighty-eight, or infinity to th' third power. Don't think this thing's waterproof, somehow." He shook it. "Don't make stolen goods like they used to."

"Infinity to the third power? When did you get all Einsteiny?" Xander laughed. "I thought you were Mister 'Kill First, Ponder Relativity While the Bodies Cool .' "

"What, I can't have facets?" Spike shrugged. "Anyway, three, two, one..." Beeep.... and his blood was warm, and the microwave clock said.. "Twelve-thirty."

He poured the blood into the mug he'd ended up nicking from Rupert's flat. 'Kiss the Librarian.' Not an unattractive proposition, on reflection, but not even worth comparing when he had a bedful of Xander at his disposal. Little flare of guilt, but he laughed it off. What? I'm a vampire! Fight, shag, take the piss, eat chocolate. That's my C.V. Just 'cos I've fallen in love with teenage snore-boy here, doesn't mean I can't think about kissin' the librarian.

"Hey bed-head... did you say there were more of those chocolate vampire crispies somewhere?" he called over to Xander, who was watching him from the bed, unmoving. Still waking up in there, no doubt, no matter how together he pretended to be. "I think you mentioned it somewhere in the middle of that epic speech about get the fuck out of my bathroom and go moisturize yourself to death, Spike..."

Xander smoothed his hair reflexively, and groaned. "And thank you for that, because I couldn't have gone another minute without another poignant reminder of my blossoming into womanhood yesterday... They're in the utility cupboard, behind the plunger. You remember-- the abode of chocolatey delights that you plundered while I was at Giles' place?"

Spike grimaced as he opened the cupboard door. "Plundering the abode of chocolatey delights? Sounds like a gay Mills and Boone romance." He withdrew the grocery bag from behind the plunger and the pile of gaffer tape, and peered inside. "Why Xander.... Six boxes? I didn't know you cared. I thank you from the bottom of my unbeating heart." He fluttered his eyelashes seductively.

It was Xander's turn to make a retching face. "First, eew. Second, Mills and who? Third...yeah. Well. Somebody or other convinced me they're a nummy treat."

"I'll cherish 'em forever. Er...Mills and Boone. The English equivalent of Harlequins. All soppy and overwritten.' Spike opened one box of Count Chocula appreciatively, shaking a handful of the crispies and little marshmallows into his mug of blood.

Xander sort of wheezed at him. Sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"What?"

"You read Harlequins?" He'd gone and got that 'I've got something on you...' look in his black eyes. Snapping. Dangerous. Really dangerous, this one, if he put his mind to it.

Spike crunched into his blood and cereal, and talked with his mouth full. "No, wanker, I don't read Harlequins. Dru did. Well, she made me read 'em to her. Total dreck. I always 'ad to add in some blood an' guts, though, or she'd pout."

Xander sat straight up. "Spike, you can't have those!"

"Blood an' guts? Yeah, chip. It hadn't slipped my mind. Reasonably acceptable substitute, though. " He returned to happily crunching, then looked up, brow furrowing in suspicion. "Oh, now...You're takin' my crunchies away again? You just want another kiss, or what? Cos' if you get your arse over here, you're welcome to it."

*****

Xander wasn't about to turn down the offer, so he grabbed his now-clean robe from where it lay on the recliner, slipped it on, and made his way over to where Spike was sitting. The vampire looked completely...well, edible. Much the way he had on Friday night, but without the extreme discombobulation factor that had sent Xander scurrying for the safety of his bed after their first kiss. Well, also there's the no-clothes factor, and why am I not panicking at that thought? Welcome to the strange world that is Xander's post-Spike brain. So...this is the way it works. I get two and a half days of complete angst, and now free vampire kisses whenever I want 'em? He grinned cheerfully. Works for me! At least for the moment. While he was high on his own insanity.

He walked around behind Spike, and leaned down. Right. This is me, kissing the vampire. Hello, vampire, are you gonna turn around, or what? I'm showing extreme emotional stability right now; the least you can do is play along. Spike turned, alright, whipping his face around with a very toothy grin. Meaning to scare Xander, no doubt, throw a little fun into the morning. Afternoon. It did, for a minute. Vampire! Vampire in my kitchen! But it was just Spike. And...how was Xander going to tell him?

Apparently the uncontrollable snickering fit did the job for him. Spike frowned. "What? You're supposed to be scared, y'know. You could at least scream like a girl or somethin'."

"Yeah...I know that's traditional with me, but...Spike, you have a marshmallow stuck on your fang." And before he really knew what he was doing, he'd leaned down and was brushing the vampire's fang-filled mouth with his own, sticking out his tongue and licking the little ghost-shaped marshmallow from Spike's terribly sharp tooth. Not cutting himself...just. Tasting, again, that first strange combination of blood and chocolate that had started to send him over the edge. Odd. Sweet and coppery at the same time. He lapped at Spike's lips, the corners of his mouth, tasting salt and chocolate and vampire. Spike carefully extended his own tongue to chase Xander's around the outside of his mouth. Finally Xander drew back, just a little afraid he'd cut himself on those sharp teeth, but somehow not afraid of the face that held them.

Spike grinned again, and morphed back into human face. "Stones, boy. I'll grant you that. You're not scared of me at all, are you? And when did pathetic toothless vampire start considering that a good thing?"

"I'm terrified of you," Xander answered truthfully. "But it doesn't have anything to do with which face you're wearing." That admission had snuck its way up from somewhere in his dimly lit half-awake mind, before he could close his lips over it. I'm terrified of...yeah, whatever. Feeling something for you that I don't know how to make an oh-so-clever snappy remark about. Okay, even Xanderspeak fails me. I officially suck today. Can I go back to bed?

Spike scratched his chin. "I can live with that. So to speak. So how'd you like your second helping of pig's blood?"

Xander went off somewhere. Pig's blood. Blood and chocolate. But the blood itself...familiar. Yeah, ick factor, but also familiar... when he'd been something wild and dangerous that he didn't really want to remember. "Third."

"Eh? You been sneakin' around behind my back with the ponce?" Spike grabbed the lapels of his bathrobe playfully.

What? Angel? Sneakin' around with Angel? Big cave-vamp Angel, whom he'd hated since the minute he first saw the drool fall from Buffy's perfectly-shaped lips to land sparkling on her hundred dollar shoes? Not a chance. Well, okay, maybe a little chance, but not one that he'd ever admit to, even under threat of being forced to watch Masterpiece Theatre while Cordelia Chase gave him a Cosmopolitan makeover.

"Yeah, while you were busy doing laundry. Dipshit." He smacked the vampire lightly on the head. Spike just looked at him. And looked at him. "Oh, fine. I...um...ateapigonce," he blurted out.

"You what?" Spike laughed.

"I...ate a pig."

Spike goggled at him. "Er...in a blanket?"

"In a cage. It was the school mascot."

Spike seemed to be torn between shock and amusement. "Tough day with the Slayer, needed to unwind?" he finally asked.

" I was possessed by a hyena at the time."

"You never cease to amaze me. Real wild man, you." Spike pushed his chair away from the table, and yanked Xander down onto his lap.

Whoa, vampiric strength, and whoa, sitting on the lap of a naked vampire, and hello, Spike's spike. Can we say disconcerting? No, probably not. We might manage...bleurgh, if we concentrated really hard.

"Um... Spike? I'm sitting on your lap?"

"Yeah, I know, pet. I put you there. Short term memory's just fine."

"Isn't that a bit..."

Spike sniffed. "What? Girly? Oh, grow up, Xander."

He slipped his arm carefully around the vampire's neck. "I kinda thought I was. Learn somethin' new every day."

Spike tapped him on the nose with his spoon. "Now, what was that about takin' my crispies away again?"

*****

The night was getting warmer, or was it just Spike?

He dragged Xander across the parking lot by the arm, towards the long-defunct outdoor concession counter. He had a plan. It was a good plan. Smart. Well-thought out. It involved screwing Xander silly, and if that worked out, doing it again. Some watching, not a lot of waiting, and if his legs started to cramp, he figured he could put up with it. Item One: Lack of patience. The downfall of many an otherwise stone-scary demon. That, and ticklish shins. God help us poor bastards with ticklish shins.

"What're we doing, Spike?"

"Was that a relationship question, as in 'Spike, why am I having these strange feelings? Spike, do you think we should get a cat?" he replied sardonically, now pushing the mortal back against the metal and Plexiglas counter.

Xander cracked up. "Oh yeah. A cat named...no, Miss Kitty Fantastico's already taken. You'd eat it if we named it Fluffy. Hmm..."

"Can't eat it. No fuckin' living creature. Wouldn't eat a cat, anyway. Too small, and besides, we've got a professional courtesy thing goin' on." He purred briefly, and Xander's eyes widened. Didn't know I could do that, did you, innocent child....I've got a list of things to try out on you, I do.

"Okay... how about...Mr. Whiskers?" Spike shook his head and shut the boy up with a kiss. Pinched Xander's left nipple lightly through the fabric of the black t-shirt he'd thrown on before they left the basement. Spike's black t-shirt, which made it nicely tight. Gotta get him some more black. Black looks good on him. Hell, black looks good on everybody. 'Cept the poof. Well, in all fairness... Okay, even the poof. Though he's the only vampire I'd say needs to wear less black...

"Spike, I meant what are we doing making out in the middle of a burned-out drive-in when we're supposedly looking for demons for you to beat up?" Xander pushed him back, breathing in little gasps. Still half-laughing.

"I have a plan." A bit defensively.

"Oh goody. Could we maybe try to take over the world tomorrow night, Brain? Your plans always seem to end up with me getting hit over the head with a microscope." Xander rubbed his fingers through dark curls, as if reliving a year-and-a-half-old head trauma. Spike pulled his hand away and kissed the spot.

"There-- all better? Can't take over the world tomorrow night. We're going to the bloody Watcher's place to play party games, remember?"

 

*****

The Second Attempt:

"No, Spike, you can have that box. It's all yours."

"I thought they were all mine..." the vampire wheedled. "Don't you love me anymore, Xander?"

Possibly. Shit. And so not about to share that little fact with you. Big greedy bleach-head. "Who said I loved you to begin with, whiny-ass?" Still sitting on Spike's lap, so he could feel the chuckles vibrating though the body beneath him and into his own.

"Well, you bought me six boxes of Count Chocula. And that was before the whole peanut-butter-and-testosterone episode. Nothin' says love like seventy-eight ounces of chocolate and refined sugar...Admit it. You wanted my extremely shaggable whiny vampire arse." Cocky bastard. Cocky...right...bastard.

"Maybe," Xander retorted. Two could play at that game. "Yeah, I bought 'em all for you. Anything to shut you up. But I kinda got caught with six boxes of chocolate cereal in my cart, and rather than tell Anya that I wanted your vaguely shaggable whiny vampire ass, if in fact I did, I decided to go with 'Count Chocula Treats.' "

Spike frowned. "Anya? As in your ex-demon ex? Flitty little chit who dumped you 'cos you don't love her?"

Xander shrugged. "She's right. I don't. Well, not that way." Yeah, that way's reserved for merciless killers who sit naked on my folding furniture with me in their lap...I gotta stop this thinking crap.

"What were you doin' talkin' to 'er in the grocery store? She track you down to twist the knife or somethin' ?"

What was that... concern? From Spike? Like...an interest in the condition of Xander Harris' completely fucked-up psyche? Way disturbing.

Sex, that he could deal with. Was finding that he wanted to deal with it more and more. He'd woken from their afternoon sleep on Sunday to find Spike's hands slowly making their way down his back, massaging him gently, then more firmly, and heading further south... A nice way to wake up. And where Spike put his hands next...calling it 'nice' was like saying that Spike was 'attractive'. Just lacked all the subtle nuances.

And, strangely, he was learning to deal with the concept of Spike in the same sentence as...companionship. Like last night, when Spike had finally found his leather duster, where it was hidden in plain sight on the coat rack, and had been about to walk out the door to go whale on whatever nasty thing he could scare out of hiding. Xander had sat quietly in the red recliner, flipping though an old issue of "X-Men" and not looking at Spike.

Sex was one thing. Even really, really really... good sex. Hell, he'd had that with Anya, at least at one point. But what he seemed to be having with Spike... it was something different. And it scared him a bit. And the fact that it only scared him a bit...scared him a lot. And the fact that it was a good bet that Spike was only in it for the sex, and maybe the chance to rag on him about his taste in clothes... So anyway, he'd pretended to read a comic book, and waited for Spike to leave. Which he seemed to be about to do. Then he'd suddenly turned at the foot of the stairs, standing out against the darkness in the stairwell like a bleached-out James Dean, almost glowing under Xander's 'I'm not really looking at you' glance. He'd cocked his head sideways in just that...Spike way, and shouted back into the room, "Hey-- you coming with, or what?"

So... concern. About Anya. Or maybe Spike was just bored. Spike was dangerous when he was bored.

"No. No knife-twisting. It's...complicated. She really wants to do this 'just friends' thing. Which I can't say I've ever seen work, exactly, but then, my previous experience with long-term relationships has consisted of...well, one, that I fucked up completely. And you're turning me into a potty-mouth."

"Oooh... the F-word. Call the Watcher's Council. You're off the Slayerette list, old son. So you told the chippie you were gonna make nummy treats with my cereal. So what?"

"So she's gonna be at Giles' tomorrow night, for this weird little research hootenanny that Willow and Giles cooked up. To which you're invited, by the way. And she'll be expecting Count Chocula treats. " Xander absently picked up the box from the table and looked at the back. Somewhere within, there was allegedly a set of Scooby Doo stickers. Be still my heart.

"To which I'm invited?" Spike repeated in disbelief. "Was Rupert by any chance smoking something from the little drawer under the Tiffany lamp when he issued that invitation?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Denial is a wonderful place to live. Giles has no sordid past, they didn't cancel "Freaks and Geeks," and the G-Man definitely never gets mellow when the rest of us aren't around. You're invited...in the sense that Buffy indicated she might not stake you the minute you set foot in the door, and Willow asked if she'd need more cookie dough. And now... I have to make Count Chocula treats."

Spike took the open box from Xander's hand. "Mine. Go get your own."

"Fine. Get out of the way while the master goes to work." Xander jumped up (reluctantly, but it wouldn't do Spike's ego any good to know that) from Spike's lap. Retrieved the grocery bag containing the remaining five boxes of cereal from the floor where Spike had left it. Stared hard at it.

Spike snickered. "You have absolutely no idea how to cook these things, do you."

"Shut up, bleach-boy."

*****

Spike sat in the recliner, which he'd turned around so that he could watch, and mock, Xander's culinary attempts. He'd actually gone so far as to paw though Xander's clothes and slip on a somewhat less threadbare robe than the one the boy was wearing. Since his lover kept giving him the evil eye when he sprawled out naked on the chair in the most distracting poses he could come up with, he'd figured it might be more fun to try some subtle torture.

As Xander put butter and marshmallows into a tupperware container and punched buttons on the microwave, a plan began to take shape.

"So, what all's on that list of yours?" Spike asked with feigned disinterest.

"What list?" Xander answered distractedly, starting up the microwave and staring at the back of the cereal box as if it would contain the recipe that he hadn't bothered to look up.

"That list of things you haven't done. The one I plan to whittle down to nothing by way of corrupting you."

"Things I haven't done? I'm thinkin' the other list would be a lot quicker. And less humiliating. How the hell do I know what I haven't done?"

"Hmm... good point. Well, I'll shout 'em out, and you can say yes, no, or what the hell is that, Spike. Knowing you, I'm expecting a boatload of those. Then again, knowing the demon chit, maybe not."

Xander sighed. "Whatever. You just... don't live for this kind of fun, don't you."

"Hell, yes. You should watch me go after Mighty Mousse sometime. It's a lark and a half. You're almost as good."

"Almost?" Xander sounded aggrieved.

"You play along, which is a hell of a lot of fun, but he's the master of 'I can't hear you...' " Spike finished with a sing-song. "Hmph. About even, I guess. Sometimes you feel like a nut… So... let's see. We can cross fellatio off that list. Ditto sodomy. Well, half of that equation, anyway. Cunnilingus?"

"You sound like you're offering the special of the day." Xander put on a terrible French-waiter voice. "And tonight, Madame, we 'av for you ze talented tongue of Xander Harris, Master of le sucking of le chatte. Also, ze house wines are..." He dropped into his own accent again, thankfully. "Yeah, you can cross that off the list."

"And somebody's got a naughty book of French phrases tucked away somewhere, eh?" Spike twisted up one corner of his mouth. Ahh, the things you learn...

"Giles, actually." Xander answered with a grin, just as the microwave beeped.

"I thought you were living in denial about our Rupert."

"Not when it's something I can actually get some use out of..." He turned and removed the plastic bowl from the microwave. Stared at it.

"What?"

"I don't think the marshmallows are supposed to be brown..." Xander fished a spoon out of the cupful of silverware on the counter to the right of the microwave. Stirred the mixture hesitantly. Dipped the spoon in and tasted it. Made a truly memorable face. "Too much butter, and the marshmallows are burnt. Way burnt. Okay, back to the drawing board."

As Xander essentially repeated his previous steps, adding more marshmallows and less butter, Spike returned to his list.

"Where was I...oh, frottage. That's a nice one."

"Sounds like a dairy product," Xander commented, this time stirring the mixture before he put it into the microwave.

Spike came very close to giggling. Vampires do not giggle. I'm...chortling, in a high-pitched tone. " Not been studying the French as hard as we pretend, then. Bit of a trick question, luv. You've done it. It's just your basic rubbin' up against each other, all happy and face to face, et cetera to et cetera. Dirty goodness for all concerned. Er... Ooh, bondage fun."

"Well, I've been tied up. Several times. Can't say I found it a particularly erotic experience when the Preying-Mantis woman locked me in a cage as the big foreplay to fertilizing her eggs and then being eaten. Not in a good way, I might add."

"My....you do live a varied life. Hyenas, bug-women, vengeance demons...vampires." Spike smiled beatifically and traced an invisible halo around his head.

"Not vampires. A vampire. Then there's the reanimated mummy with the tongue-kiss of death, the vampire version of Willow...hey, I guess you were right. Plural vamps. Not that I actually did anything to speak of with vampy Will, but she did have very grabby hands..."

"Red as a vampire? Where the hell was I? God, she must've been hot."

"Excuse me, that's my best friend whose demon-possessed corpse you're salivating over. And you...were on your way back to Brazil, I think." Pause. "Um, yeah, there was hotness. Freaky, scary hotness, but..." The microwave beeped again.

"But let's face it, you're a sick little puppy, or I wouldn't be here having this conversation with you." Spike suggested lasciviously.

"And once again, I question whether this is a conversation, or a fun-for-the-whole-family game of 'Let's make Xander say embarrassing things about himself.' " He tasted the marshmallow and butter mixture again, this time burning his mouth. "Shit."

"So, we'll put bondage down as a possible maybe. As in maybe you've done it, and maybe you'd do it again. Am I right?"

"Maybe."

"Right, being a selfish bastard, I'll just skip the ones that don't do anything for me, so...what else...oh. Rimming."

Xander blinked. Repeatedly. "That'd be a 'Spike, what the hell is that.' "

Oho! A fun new talent to explore! "Didn't think the demonette would've gone in for that. I'll save that one for a practical demonstration. Trust me, you'll like it. Let's see-- you're human, male, and over twelve, so I think we can safely remove wanking from the list. Not that I'm running out, by a long shot, but I might be running out of ones you've actually heard of..."

Xander sighed. "One can only hope..." He stirred the contents of the bowl again. "It just doesn't look right. I wonder if you actually have to heat it in a pot. The Microwave Chef may finally be foiled."

"Why do you have to do this now, anyway?" Spike asked, putting a bit more of the whinge into his voice. "I can think of much more constructive things to occupy your time..."

"Oh, I'm sure. But I have to work tonight, and tomorrow morning, and I'm not leaving you to try to make Scooby Snacks. God knows what you'd put in 'em."

"Hey, I could be a Cordon Bleu chef! I'm over a hundred years old; I have hidden talents, believe it or not." Spike sniffed. Underestimated at all turns, he was. I do have hidden talents, but they have nothing to do with cooking...

Xander looked at him with new appreciation. "Are you?" he asked, hope dawning in his eyes.

"Naw, but I had you goin', there. I can read and follow directions, and I know how to press the button that says 'popcorn...' but beyond that, you're on your own."

"Prick-tease."

"Oooh, non-primetime language. I love it when you talk dirty to me, baby..." Spike purred in his sexiest 'come-fuck-me-now-and-forget-about-the-damn-marshmallows' voice. A smile, but no movement across the kitchen. Spike sighed. "Speaking of which...for a guy who talks as much as you do, can carry on a conversation during foreplay, you're awfully quiet when the chips are down, so to speak..."

"Yeah, your choices seem to be pointless babbling or stunned silence." Xander licked the spoon in his hand, which just about had Spike off the damned chair and pinning him to the wall... but he reined in his impulses, and just...twitched a bit.

"Right, add to list of goals: make Xander scream. In a non-girly voice."

*****

A distinctly hot night at the Sunnydale Drive-In.

Spike had picked Xander up by the waist and deposited him on the countertop. In one swell foop, which had Xander, still a bit dizzy from his upside-down travels over Spike's shoulder, reeling a bit. Hel-lo vampire strength. I've gotta weigh at least fifteen or twenty pounds more than him...

"So..." he asked while trying to catch his breath. "What's this plan of yours? I mean, dragging me around and hoping somebody would show up who was evil enough to want to take dinner away from a vampire...that was pretty much a bust. So what's next?"

Spike scratched his head. "I was sorta thinking we'd put Murphy's Law to use. I get somethin' started with you, that'll be about the time the Big and Creepies start tumbling out of the woodwork." He reached purposefully for Xander's fly.

"So the plan is that when the big ugly demons show up and you go into full vamp-out game-face kick-ass mode, my dick'll be in your mouth? I sense a flaw here, Sherlock." Not that Xander was actually making any move to stop Spike as the vampire lowered the human's zipper and coaxed out his burgeoning erection...

"I exist in the pure and sainted hope that nobody, even on the Hellmouth, would be evil enough to interrupt a man while he's trying to make his lover scream. It's just not cricket." With that extremely British bit of nonsense, Spike's mouth was around him, licking and sucking and just generally proving that William the Bloody did indeed have hidden talents.

What did I do...to get so damn lucky? In the ...literal sense... Thoughts worked their way through Xander's mind in little gasps, as if even his brain were having trouble breathing. Unbelievably beautiful guy...and way over the fact that it's a guy, 'cause…well…Lower lip I could bite on for hours...Likes to give head...which, okay, Anya did too, but...he's so much better at it...Lets me, goofy human guy, fuck him, badass vampire guy, and doesn't seem to care that I'm still too nervous to let him do it to me... He grabbed at Spike's shoulder as the vampire began to hum something or other. Surely not the Star Spangled Banner... He's too much of a baritone to hit the high notes...

*****

"It's just missing something," Xander complained mournfully, sloshing the bowl of marshmallow-and-butter around in a circle.

"Like a pan to put the cereal in when you pour that stuff over it?" Spike suggested, stretching luxuriantly as he rose from the chair.

"Good point, Master Chef. I think I may have to go...upstairs...for this."

Spike frowned. "You don't have to..."

Xander looked at him strangely. "It's just upstairs. No boogey-men. I may not like my parents very much, but they don't...beat me with sticks or anything."

That's good to know. Because then I don't have to try to find a way to kill them, slowly. Assuming you're telling the truth. He searched the boy's face, but didn't find any answers there. Somebody had hurt him, that was for sure. Maybe multiple somebodies. It wasn't all that farfetched to assume it started at home, given the loud voices, the drunken arguments, Xander's general reluctance to have anything to do with his family. Yet he didn't leave. He surely had enough money for first and last month's rent in most of the halfway livable flats in this little burg. Not a sweet little condo like Rupert's, sure, but he could move out any time and find someplace he could afford to hang his non-existent hat. Yet he stayed. So, now, Spike stayed too. Don't trust them, don't necessarily believe him, and I'm not leaving him alone with them. Not leaving him alone at all.

Xander had apparently been taking in the fact that he was being studied. Didn't seem to particularly like it. "What-- do I just have 'victim' stamped on my forehead?"

Yes. Spike gave him a non-committal tilt of the head. "You are a bit...bruise-able, pet."

No answer, but Xander began to gather up his supplies, making ready to head up the stairs into...whatever was up there. Finally, "Dad's at work. Monday, so Mom's probably at her little bridge lunch thingy. Not as if I'll be having to make conversation."

"Good. Then I'll come up with you. Look for incriminating photos." Spike tightened the belt around Xander's too-big bathrobe.

"No, you won't. Mom comes home early, she'll just write off the sight of me in the kitchen, actually cooking, as a pre-Happy-Hour hallucination. She sees you, she'll freak. Nobody could write you off as a hallucination. Unless they were on some really good drugs."

Spike pouted. "Poor Spike. Left alone in the basement with nothing to do but start looking around for evil mischief to get into..." He glanced around the basement. Now where hadn't he looked yet for Xander's hidden stash of porn and other embarrassing goodies?

Xander cleared his throat. "Okay, what can I do to keep you from turning this place into a complete disaster area while I'm gone?"

"You could fuck me so hard I don't have the strength to crawl out of bed," the vampire suggested simply. Like I've been tryin' to get you to do for the last two hours...

*****

And way to make the bluntness work for you again Xander thought as he stared at the pale blonde guy in the maroon bathrobe who'd just politely but straightforwardly asked him, Xander Harris, to fuck him into the mattress. And there wasn't any use pretending that hearing Spike say the words "Fuck me..." in that rough-smooth British accent, didn't make him hard as a rock. He put his cooking supplies back down on the table.

Still...there was a little bit of guilt there. A little... What the hell's he getting out of this? How long is he gonna let me get my rocks off by doing him ?

"Did you...want to try..." he asked hesitantly. Spike pinned him with that clear, take-no-shit-from-anybody gaze. Shook his head slowly.

"Not yet, love. Just...not yet." Spike walked over to him and cupped his chin in one cool hand. "You're not ready, Hell, I'm not ready..."

Xander suddenly understood. "You're just as chickenshit as I am, aren't you? You really are afraid the chip'll go off on you." He smiled. He'd found something Spike was afraid of, and it happened to be something they had in common. Weird. Not that he wanted Spike's head to explode or anything either...

"If you say so. Or maybe I just want to be fucked. You up for that?"

"Ulp. Apparently so." So saying, Xander half-shyly guided Spike's hand down to his groin, which was happily doing its own thing...

Spike grinned merrily. "Guess so." And began to drag him by the hand, towards the bed.

"You know, I have absolutely no idea where the lube went..." Xander said thoughtfully, stopping the overeager vampire where he stood.

"Tossed it out. Somebody didn't put the cap back on, an' it got all squished."

"Somebody spat the cap halfway across the room and lost it somewhere, dickhead. So now what? And don't say 'peanut butter,' either. Because...yuck."

"Well, yum, actually. I've done peanut butter. You don't know what you're missin'. There's another one we can leave on the list. Right, fine, no peanut butter this time...how much plain old butter's left? Enough for you to make your bloody treats and still use a bit for illicit purposes? Should be pretty warm after all the time it's been sitting out."

Butter? Well, I guess. If he says so...

...

So there was Spike, on the bed, propped up on pillows, forget ceremony, forget foreplay, forget non-primetime sexy talk, just 'here's my incredibly attractive ass, please fuck me.' And subtlety be damned, it sounded like a good proposition to Xander. On his knees behind the vampire, experimentally coating his fingers with what was actually I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter, not that anybody was worried about the cholesterol count, right?

"Did I...umm...did I do this right, last time?" he stammered out.

Spike craned his head around to look back at him. "Did you...yes, you bloody well did it right, though it's a bit like Blow-Job 101-- there's no one correct answer. God, you are insecure, aren't you." Xander shrugged. Of course he was. He was Xander, after all.

"Come to it, though, where exactly did you pick that much up, oh innocent boy?"

"Number four across, four letters, ends with 'nya' and it's not a techno-Celtic-easy-listening-singer. Detailed verbal descriptions around the same time as the purchase of yon little white squished tube. I...ah...wasn't up for it."

"She wanted you to do 'er? Guess you do learn somethin' new every day. That's a rare one."

Hem-haw...hem... "Well, she offered, but...what she really wanted was to do me."

Spike's eyebrows shot up towards his slightly shadowed hairline. Time for bleach-boy to do the roots, pretty soon. "That's...inventive. Can't say I'm not glad she didn't. I want that. Anyway…here I thought you two were just boffing each other's brains out in the conventional manner."

"We were, pretty much. I did say I wasn't up to it... I mean... you're dating an eleven hundred year old ex-demon who's made her career out of causing men's body parts to fall off in a thousand creative ways. Do you really want to trust her to stick something up your ass?"

Spike buried his face in the pillow, chortling. Wheezing, almost. "Oh... oh, hell, that's priceless. Can we get a bumper sticker says that?"

"Only if it goes on your car. Which is where, by the way? I know you have one, and yet…you've been hoofing it around town all year. Methinks I smell a story…"

"I don't want to talk about it. Er...would you mind?"

Xander laughed, and began to massage Spike's upthrust buttocks. Gave each one a quick kiss, separated them, and was just about to slowly insert a finger or two, when Spike suddenly tossed back, "Spanking!"

*****

Blisteringly hot night at… well, you get the picture. Spike grinned around a very large mouthful of Xander's cock. No demons or other nasties had managed to wander out of the darkness and into the parking lot yet, which was nice, because he didn't need the distraction. He'd eased off on the semi-traitorous humming when he realized it was about to make the boy come…just a bit sooner than Spike would've liked. Because he really was trying for that scream.

Hmmm…turning up the motor on the Spike-vacuum with optional tongue-massage attachment, he reached underneath with his left hand, to cup Xander's sensitive bollocks. This could get…fun… He squeezed, just a bit. Which got him a quickly indrawn breath and a hissed "Sssssspike…"

Not polite to talk with your mouth full… So he eased off with the left, and raised his right hand above his head, palm up, fingers splayed. As in 'What? What do you want me to do?'

"Do that…again…"

Right hand wiggled its fingers. 'What, this?' Left hand squeezed, a little harder.

"Yesssss, that. Do that." Oh, happy voice. I like happy voice. Could do with hearing it more often.

Still…somebody was getting a bit demanding… Manners these days. Honestly. Left hand merely tickled the full-to-bursting sac as right hand made little 'C'mon, c'mon, what do we say…' flicks, with fingers curling in towards palm…

Xander's breathing was getting loud, now… just a bit more teasing ought to do it… Then Xander's left hand caught Spike's right in a desperate grip, cutting off that line of communication, but not before he'd made his point, apparently.

"Pleeeeease, Spike!" Exasperated. Exhilarated. Completely demented.

Yeah, that's it. I knew somebody taught you some manners. Spike squeezed again, and this time went into full-on 'your balls are my play toy' mode, still sucking and pumping with his mouth. Innit lucky for him I can multi-task…

With a strangled exhalation, Xander stiffened in his grasp-- but Spike didn't want a strangled exhalation; he wanted a scream. So, though he'd sort of promised he wouldn't, sometime yesterday morning, he let his demon out. Just a little. Enough to surround Xander's cock with a ring of sharp teeth that pricked him, so very gently… and faded away as Spike's face smoothed again, and Xander thrust forward into Spike's completely fangless mouth, with an uncontrolled flood of semen, accompanied by a long, low…scream….

And as Spike allowed his favorite, most self-satisfied expression to steal over his face, and Xander slowly began to breathe like a normal human again, footfalls echoed though the lot, crunching on the gravel, and coming their way, fast.

*****

Interlude Before the Third Attempt:

Willow paused outside the magic shop as she mentally tallied up her purchases. Essence of day lily, marjoram, dragon's blood, blue and red, a new packet of beeswax candles… that was pretty much all she'd needed. A trip to the public library earlier in the morning had yielded a volume she'd previously passed over, hidden on a back shelf and suspiciously not in the computer catalog… plus the inter-library loans she'd requested from the University of Texas library had come in, so… All in all, one extremely satisfied witch. She allowed herself a bit of mental wickedness… Or I will be, once I get all this back to Tara's room and we can set up this spell…

After what seemed like aeons of 'doing spells' that had legitimate purposes, and still left them all tingly and overheated, and a month or so of experimenting with non-spell things that…also left them all tingly and overheated, Willow had finally relocated a spell she remembered skimming over in her more innocent days of experimenting with witchcraft. Back when it was all curing zits and looking for ways to rid the world of frogs… A nice, well-intentioned if slightly naughty spell, whose entire purpose was to…leave them all tingly and overheated. Just a bit more than usual.

So…Tara would still be in her summer class, an advanced literature course, and Willow had some time to kill. I really should go over to Xander's and pay him back for the groceries. He sprang for a lot more than he should've, considering he was only one out of five people eating on Saturday. Plus he bought the cookie dough and the ice cream for tomorrow. She headed off down the sidewalk though the early afternoon pedestrian traffic, in the direction of Xander's subdivision. Besides, I should probably make sure he and Spike haven't killed each other yet…

*****

Xander had paused in what he was doing, which wasn't a good thing at all, in Spike's humble opinion. Then again, he'd opened his own big mouth to throw one more torment at the lad, so he guessed he deserved whatever he had coming. Then again, considering what he'd tossed out, that mightn't necessarily be a bad thing…

"I beg your pardon?" Xander squeaked. "I mean, was that a request, or just a random brain-blurb, or what?"

"Just occurred to me that it was one I'd left off the list. Spanking. As in, have you, do you, squick you, et cetera."

"Ahh…" Xander answered helpfully.

Oh…ho…ho… not so innocent in all the ways of the world…

"Oh, come on now. It's a perfectly straightforward question."

"Ye-es. Have."

"Ooh, nummy. Top? Bottom? Switch? Like it? Don't?"

Heavy silence. Pained sigh.

"Look, I'm lying naked on my stomach on your bed, about to be drilled into the bedsprings, hopefully before you have to leave for work. Don't you think we're a bit past the shy phase?"

"No. Sure, you are. You're dead--what do you have to be shy about? Your entire purpose in still walking around is to make me stutter and turn red and say things I've had nightmares about saying in front of my History class. And I'm nineteen. I can be shy if I want. So there."

"Very pretty. As are you. But you still haven't answered the question." Spike growled softly. "And I'd like that, because then you could get back to the purpose at hand, which was you fucking me, already."

"Oh, fine. Whatever. Have I? Yes. Do I? Not at the moment, because I'm busy humoring a pushy-ass vampire. Squick me? I'll assume that's a bad thing, and say no. Either/or, but…" his voice disappeared into nothing…

Spike chuckled. "But you prefer bottom. Welcome to the club. Jacket and tie optional."

Xander's turned for a frustrated sigh, and then he surprised Spike (pleasantly) by smacking him smartly on the arse. "You're not wrong. Now shut up."

"Sir, yes sir. Would you kindly commence with the shagging now, sir? You really can dispense with the formalities. I won't break, and I like pain. The which you might've gathered by now."

"What part of 'Shut Up' don't you understand? The shut, or the up?" Xander rubbed the spot where he'd just smacked Spike, and returned to what he was doing in the first place. Well, made as if to return, then stopped. "You sure?"

"I know you're bloody nineteen and this is only the second time in your life that you've ever done this, but for future reference, that's got to be the worst cliché of all time. Yes, I'm bleedin' sure! I've been doin' this for a while, y'know. Skip the fun an' games, and just jump in. Or I'll follow you upstairs and write nasty things in your mother's gardening books."

Xander snorted. 'Can't have that happening." And pushed his slicked-up member directly against Spike's hole, sending the best sensations scurrying through the vampire's body, as he was stretched and entered without fanfare, which was exactly what he'd been whingeing about for in the first place. Just barely painful enough to be perfect, just slow enough to feel as if it would last forever.

"Thank you," he sighed gratefully, and Xander laughed at him, the relief that he hadn't done anything wrong evident in that sound.

Then they were moving, and it became a bit difficult to figure out where one of them left off and the other began, though Spike was reasonably sure he was the one with the extremely happy arse. Couldn't swear to it on a stack of Bibles, especially as it would probably burn his hand, but he'd lay odds…

I'm one sorry demon, but I'm in love, so bugger off. I like being love's bitch. Suits me.

*****

Willow walked around the Harris house, noting the lack of parked cars. Xander's father was at work. Good. Mr. Harris wasn't exactly one of her favorite people to meet. Xander's mom's car was gone too. Also fine. She was okay to talk to on the 'Hi, is Xander home?' level, but not really all there at the best of times, and way gone in the afternoons. How old was Willow when she realized that Mrs. Harris wasn't just happy if she was home alone after about three o'clock, but mildly blasted? Six? Seven?

Xander's car, or rather, his Uncle Rory's car, was parked around back. The 57 Chevy looked good, except for the dented fender that had been the result of Rory's latest brush with drunk driving. Tipsy driving, from what Xander said, but it was still said in a disgusted tone. Why the man hadn't lost his license for good by now was a constant mystery, but in this case, it had gotten Xander his cool-guy car-thing back for a while. So, Xander was home, unless he'd walked somewhere.

She knocked at the outside basement door. No answer. Knocked again. That's weird. Maybe he did go for a walk. But…Xander? When he's got the babe-magnet at his disposal? Well, she had a key, as did Buffy and Giles, and probably Anya, if she hadn't given it back. I'll just leave the money on the couch, with a note, and see him tomorrow.

She fiddled around with her keyring, finally locating the oddly shaped deadbolt key, and unlocked the door. Knocking again, just to be sure, and hearing no answer, she pushed it open and started down the stairs.

"Xander?" she called. "You home?" No answer, so she creaked her way down the stairs and poked her head around the interior doorway. Huh. Weird. The sofa-bed was still unfolded, and… oh. That's why he didn't answer. He's still asleep. Lazy-butt. It's gotta be three in the afternoon, and here he is napping…

Willow giggled. She knew exactly how to wake Xander up in a hurry-- had, in fact, since they were about five years old. Ticklish feet. It wasn't like he didn't sleep in boxers, anyway, so she wouldn't be getting a free show or anything. Not that she necessarily minded that idea. Hey, I'm allowed to look. Nobody ever said I wasn't allowed to look. Tara looks at Buffy all the time, and I don't rag on her for it.

As she got a bit closer to the rumpled-up bed, however, she realized something. Tickling the foot that was sticking just slightly out from under the covers would probably be a bad idea. Because it wasn't Xander's foot.

"Umm…Anya?" she squeaked. But it wasn't Anya, was it. First, it really didn't sound like Anya was going to suddenly come to her senses and fall swooning back into Xander's arms, and second, she didn't have size nine-and-a-half feet. Male feet. Eep.

*****

Night at the drive-in, getting cooler…

Spike swore softly, and then went into overdrive. Gave Xander's cock a quick, ironic kiss, tucked it away, zipped up the boy's jeans, and watched him roll expertly off the back of the counter to fall to the gravel behind it. He'd be patching up some cuts and scrapes later tonight, for sure.

The vampire whirled around in full demon-mode, to face whatever the swiftly approaching footfalls heralded. Which turned out to be… five foot two, eyes of blue, tank-top too small for words, Buffy Anne Summers. The Slayer. Spike sniggered. Murphy's Law.

"Spike?" she spat at him in surprise. "What are you doing out here?"

"Er…patrolling?" he shrugged, grinning toothily.

"Patrolling?" she repeated, shaking that dirty-blonde hair over her shoulder as if the sheer power of Miss Clairol could ward off the denizens of the night… "Oh. You mean cruising for demons to pick fights with so you don't feel like quite the impotent little fang-boy that you are."

"If you like. You fight for truth and justice and the American way, I do it 'cos it gets my rocks off, but the ends are pretty much the same." He licked his lips absently, and then, realizing what he was tasting, put a bit more effort into it. Buffy scowled at him.

Actually, the ends are a little different. I get to go home and get my end off with one of your best friends, you get to go home and finger yourself until farm-boy gets back from Indiana or Iowa or wherever the hell. I think I've got the better end of the deal.

"I heard a scream. You see anything weird out here?"

"Besides you? Nah. Didn't sound like anybody bein' tortured, anyway. Probably some juicy young things goin' at it in the bushes, late on a summer night. Love's in the air, didn't you know?"

"You're…"

"A pig, Spike…" he finished in unison. "Yeah, but I'm still not the one who wanted 'Wind Beneath My Wings' for the first dance."

She grimaced. That one still got a rise out of her. Good. Nice to know the classics hadn't gone stale yet.

"Tell you what," he added, slipping back to human face. "I'll take a look around. I find anybody shaggin' in the shrubs, I'll give you a shout, and you can come watch with me. Bring popcorn."

"Bite me, Spike."

"Not if you paid me, Slayer."

She stalked off towards the woods on the other side of the parking lot, and he started to laugh. Loudly.

*****

The Third Attempt:

Willow backed up against the doorframe, trying to make her brain work right, and wondering if she could get out of there without waking whoever it was up. Which was about the time she heard Xander's voice start singing, a little off-key, from upstairs.

"You don't have to call me darlin'…darlin'…. You never even call me by my name…" Bad country accent.

That's my Xander. No shame, as long as he thinks nobody can hear him…

And another big eep, because he was coming down the other set of stairs, suddenly, wearing a bathrobe, and carrying a metal baking pan in one hand. She backed up into the shadows of the little foyer by the stairs she had used, trying to sink into the concrete and die, or at least disappear…

Xander looked across the room, right at her, and covered the space between them in about three milliseconds.

"Hey, Wills! Just makin' some tasty treats for tomorrow. Wanna try one? Take a few home to Tara?" He crowded her towards the stairs, wafting chocolate-scented yumminess in her general direction, and looking completely flustered. Well, that made two of them.

"You…cooked? Because, you don't do that, you know. I mean, not unless you can do it by pressing the 'defrost' button on the microwave. And I really gotta go… I just came by to…give you some money, for the groceries, from Saturday, and the cookie dough.. and… I didn't know you had company, and I'll just be leaving now, and next time I'll call…" she babbled relentlessly, backing up the stairs. Maybe I didn't see what I thought I saw. Maybe Xander's just got a girl, with really big feet, in his bed. Maybe my girlfriend's really a man in drag, too. Maybe I should just go back to her room right now and prove that she isn't…

Maybe she should let Xander know it was okay? No, that would require much awkwardness and a certain amount of sweaty palms, and making him acknowledge something he might not want to acknowledge. On the other hand, if she pretended she really thought it was a girl…

"Umm…and I'm glad you're not still upset about Anya, and whoever she is, I hope you… y'know, I should just be leaving now. See you tomorrow!" So saying, she grabbed the baking pan absently from his hand, replaced it with a random handful of bills from her purse, and scurried up the stairs and out the door.

*****

Spike pulled his head out from under the pillow with a groan, his hair sticking up in his namesake spikes. Without the aid of gel. "Well, that was…interesting…" he muttered. Xander stared at him.

"Did she…see you?" he asked in a shellshocked daze. Interesting? Yeah, interesting about covers it.

Spike shook his head. "No, I was just having a snooze, baskin' in the afterglow, as it were, when Red comes traipsing in. I think she thought I was you, at first. Then she squeaked out something about Anya, and…well, you 'eard the rest. I think we're covered on the closety front, though I'll lay odds she'll be sniffin' around trying to figure out which new little chicklette you've got in your nest." He shrugged. "Can't say you don't lead an interesting life…"

"Yeah…may you live in interesting times. It's a Chinese curse. At least according to the fortune cookies at Wong Ling's."

"How'd the nummy treats turn out?" Spike sniffed the air. "Smells good, anyway."

"I think I may have made a bit too much…five boxes adds up to about eight pans of it. Sent one off with Willow, say four of 'em to actually take to Giles…"

The vampire tapped his nose thoughtfully. "Whatever shall we do with the other three, then?"

"I'll go get 'em. Oh… here." Xander reached into the pocket of his bathrobe, and pulled out the little gift he'd found upstairs.

"What's that then?" Spike asked as Xander handed him the photograph.

"Incriminating evidence." A wallet-sized photo of a ten-year-old Xander and Willow, arms around each other, doing a whacked-out version of the Lambada, and smiling cheesily into the camera.

Spike ran his fingers through his hair and quirked his scarred eyebrow, smiling. "I'd best put this someplace safe, so I have blackmail material on hand if I need it." He glanced at his watch. "Don't you have to go to work?"

"Chuck-E-Cheese Hell? After much thought, and my fourth Count Chocula treat, I called the manager and told him to suck eggs. In so many words. Down to one job again."

"I'm devastated. How'll you keep me in the style to which I've become accustomed?"

*****

Willow set her packages down on the table in Tara's dorm room, frowning. Her girlfriend tilted her head, giving Willow that sweet 'I'm worried about you, but I don't know what to say…' look.

"What's wrong? Couldn't you find all the ingredients for the DeChanteis spell? 'Cause, y'know, it's okay if you…you didn't. No biggie."

"No, I got 'em. I'm…just a little distracted, I guess."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

Willow shook her head. "It's not that I don't want to. I don't have anything to keep from you. It's just…this is somebody else's thing, you know? I'm not even sure if it's my business, let alone to share it with anybody else."

"I understand." The blonde smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I just don't like to see you upset."

"I'm not upset. Just a little… concerned, I guess. I think... somebody I know may be going through pretty much the same thing you and I were, but like I said, I don't know if it's any of my business."

"You're such a neighborhood mom!" Tara laughed softly. "Well, if whoever it is needs help, I know you'll be there. Me too, if you need me."

"Oh, I need you. Come here, and let's see if we can't work some magic."

"Sounds good. Oh--hey-- you brought chocolate! Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

"No…tell me again."

*****

Midnight at the Sunnydale Drive-In Theatre. Not as cool as you'd expect.

"Well, I'd have to say that demon-hunting trip put the "Fee" in fiasco," Xander commented, leaning up against the concession counter and brushing gravel off his jeans. And hands. And face.

Spike watched him. Blue jeans, black t-shirt, dark hair that was growing a little too long… He really should let it get longer. It looks…dangerous, falling in his face like that. In a good way. What had it taken-- three days, and Xander had gone from the guy who hid under the covers after being kissed to the guy who'd sat on a countertop in an abandoned parking lot, getting a blowjob and screaming happily? Rolling professionally to the ground to hide when the Slayer'd shown up, and, as soon as she'd grumped off into the night, joining Spike in a fit of uncontrollable belly-laughter.

"Oh, I dunno. I had a good day. How about you?" Spike pinned him against the counter again, and kissed him softly.

"Yeah, I've had worse."


End file.
